The claustrophobia of depression.


The disembodied self

I close my eyes and try to feel.
The me within this embodied seal.
Inevitably I find that fleshy trap.
It's formed around me like a mummy's wrap.

I open my eyes and try to see.
With my own mind - true to me.
But reality is there to feed my ache.
I won't ever see the pool my tears make.



Poetry by mickeko The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 38 times
Written on 2025-11-22 at 16:50

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
That self is there. Probably when the 'time is right' you will be able to see what you want to see. When we are depressed the weight of the oppression we are feeling overwhelms the subtlety of finer and/or alternative perception. I hope that weight disappears soon for you.
Blessings, Allen
2025-11-24